Avondale (4 page)

He knew it was foolish. Wizards were outlawed by the Nine Cities of Valana, but he couldn’t make the desire go away. He felt shamed by his desire to work magic, but he couldn’t keep the fantasies out of his mind. He began to explore the city on his own once his lessons at the temple were over. He would wander around, looking for something he couldn’t find or even describe. When he met Lexi, he thought he’d found a kindred spirit, or at least someone who wouldn’t judge him for wanting a different kind of life. He admired her, but in some ways he used her. She took him to the places he could never find on his own, the old places, the parts of the city his father and their advisors pretended didn’t exist. And finally he’d found the one thing that made his heart leap for joy, and yet it also shamed him. Lexi had not understood, and he realized no one would. If they found his new treasure, they would punish him, perhaps even lock him away in the temple forever. He couldn’t let that happen.

It took a while to make his way back up to the palace. He didn’t know the exact directions, but he knew that as long as he went up every flight of stairs he came to, eventually he would end up on the city’s main avenue. Then, it was only a matter of time before he came to the palace.

It was dark when he arrived home, but that wasn’t unusual. He hurried up to his rooms where Robere would be waiting to help him wash up and change for dinner. Robere was a kind older servant, one of the few allowed to dress and care for the Earl’s sons. There was simply no telling what type of faux pas the aging servant had committed to be stuck caring for Tiberius. There was certainly no future in it, nor any sort of honor. Still, the man was always kind and fair with Ti, never snubbing him as some of the other palace servants did.

Tiberius knew he couldn’t let the older man see the book he’d found and he hoped he might have just a few minutes alone before the servant arrived to help him prepare for the night. Unfortunately, he ran into Rafe as he hurried up the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?” Rafe asked.

“Out in the city,” Tiberius said, happy to see his friend, but hoping not to linger. “And you?”

“Protecting the city from a vicious Forkus,” Rafe said with a grin.

“I saw you, I was on the watchtower.”

“There was room for you on the wall.”

“I would have been there if I could have.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Rafe said, irritation showing in his voice. “It’s not like we would be able to do anything if one of those bloody creatures actually got close enough to attack the city. We would just be the first to die.”

“I thought you loved the nobility of dying in combat.”

“Combat yes, fighting monsters from the blighted lands below, not so much.”

“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Of course,” Rafe said. “My father will have to give a report.”

They both hurried away in different directions. Rafe and Tiberius were the same age, and the two boys had cultivated a friendship over the years. Rafe was a gifted fighter, but struggled to live up to his father’s famous reputation. Unlike Tiberius, Rafe was a natural with a sword. He could fight well with any weapon, but unless he became the Earl’s champion when his father stepped down, Tiberius knew Rafe would be crushed.

He hurried to his room, which was a nicely appointed space opposite his brother Brutas’ rooms. Leonosis had a suite of rooms and Brutas had two adjoining rooms, one for sleeping and the other for study. Tiberius, on the other hand, had just had a single room; there wasn’t even a fireplace. He used a brazier to stay warm at night. The room was large enough for a small desk, a wardrobe, and a massive four-poster bed. He rushed inside and closed the door. It was still dark in the room, which meant that Robere had not arrived yet. Tiberius hurried forward in the darkness, his bed a massive shadow against the far wall.

Tiberius had shelves of books and knickknacks he’d collected over the years, but his most prized possessions he kept in a trunk under his bed. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and pulled out the heavy wooden box. He flung it open and then carefully removed the two book fragments from his tunic. He was anxious to read them, but he forced himself to hide them away and begin cleaning up instead.

He had just poured a pitcher of water into a basin on his table when Robere came in with a lamp and a small bucket of coals for the brazier.

“Master Tiberius, you’re early,” the older man said.

“Really? I thought I was right on time for a change.”

“What mischief are you up to?”

“No mischief, I just rushed to the palace when the alarm sounded. The Prefect didn’t have time to give us loads of busywork today.”

“You saw the attack then?”

“Yes,” Tiberius said.

“Very exciting,” the servant said, placing a towel on the table beside the basin. “There is nothing more thrilling than seeing the Earl’s soldiers defending Avondale. Dinner shall be a victory feast.”

Tiberius dashed water on his face so the servant wouldn’t see him grimace. The soldiers who had fought the Forkus would regale the court with tales of their exploits and dinner would drag on for hours. If Tiberius slipped away early, it would cause suspicion, so he would have to wait even longer to explore his new find.

After scrubbing his face and hair, Robere helped Tiberius pull off his clothes and get dressed in his evening formals. The third son of the Earl could wear practical clothes while he went off to study at the temple, but when he rejoined the family, he was expected to look the part. The clothes were silky and very comfortable, but Tiberius knew they wouldn’t last long in the city. He wore a dark red tunic, with an ivory sash. His leather breeches were replaced with baggy linen pants that tucked into stiff boots that were polished to a high shine and rose up to his knees.

Robere brushed Tiberius’ hair and then tied the laces around his tunic’s flowing cuffs. Tiberius looked at himself in the long dressing mirror and declared himself ready for the feast.

The night seemed to drag on and on. The meal was served to a full hall, with wealthy patrons and courtiers all dressed in their finest. Tiberius found many of the young women of the court to be quite attractive, but they didn’t seem to notice him at all. Wine flowed freely, but Tiberius was careful not to drink too much. He had Robere, who helped serve the royal family during meals, bring him water instead.

Rafe was seated next to Tiberius, both well away from the Earl and Countess. Sometimes Tiberius wondered if his parents would even notice if he failed to show up for their formal evening meals. Rafe kept up a running commentary, most of it crude humor, as the solders who led the ballistae crews gave reports to the Earl. It was a regular game the two young men had played since they were children. Tiberius couldn’t laugh or draw attention to himself during such feasts, and Rafe did his best to get his friend laughing out loud.

Tiberius noticed that Rafe kept glancing at Lady Olyva. His friend hadn’t admitted to having a crush on Tiberius’ future sister-in-law, but it was obvious just the same. Not that crushes among the young people of the royal court were uncommon, but in this case Rafe’s passion was distressing. Lady Olyva was already matched and promised to Brutas. If Rafe had just had a secret crush, it would have been no big deal, but Tiberius also noticed that Lady Olyva stole her fair share of glances toward Rafe. That spelled trouble for the Sword Master’s son, and Tiberius was frustrated that there wasn’t anything he could do to help.

Finally, the festivities ended, and Tiberius excused himself from the table. He hurried back to his room, where Robere was waiting to help him disrobe once more. Tiberius was dressed in warm woolen sleeping clothes, and candles were lit around the room. Normally, Tiberius had lessons to study or reports to prepare for, but on this night he merely waited impatiently for Robere to leave.

“Do you require anything else, Master Tiberius?”

“No,” Ti said. “I’m fine for the night. Thank you.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Tiberius smiled, Robere was the only person who ever called him lord. He waited until the older man had left, then he flipped the small latch to lock his door and hurried back to the bed and the treasure waiting underneath.

His hands shook as he pulled the trunk out from under his bed. He opened the lid and carefully took out the book fragments. The leather was old and worn, puckering around the edges and torn at the corners. The paper was different than the parchment he was used to handling. It was thin and stiff, but hardy at the same time. He carried the fragments to his small table. The water and basin had been set on a high shelf and a polished silver candelabra with half a dozen beeswax candle tapers burned brightly.

He set the book down and looked at it again. The title, which had been pressed into the leather, probably with some type of gold leaf, was completely worn away. The once smooth texture of the leather was now rough and dry. Tiberius was careful not to get the book too close to the candles, knowing it would catch fire easily.

He opened the cover, and looked down at the first yellowed page. His heart was racing. He held in hands the work of an actual wizard. He had no idea who Horace Masstivus had been, but he felt a sense of gratitude for the long-dead wizard. He wondered what it meant to be a Wizard of the Third Order, but again he had no idea. The only thing he’d ever been taught about wizardry was the danger of working magic and that it was the cause of the great cataclysm which had destroyed most of Valana. Everything with references to wizards or magic had been gathered up and set ablaze in the great purge. There were no history books about magic, and no one ever spoke of the wizards of old.

Tiberius turned the page and looked at the carefully written script. It was not as perfect as the scribe work from the Temple of Addoni, but it was clearly legible. He glanced at his door one more time to make sure the latch was closed and he was truly alone, then he began to read.

The essence of magic isn’t spells or working wonders, but rather a mastery of the will, combined with a judicious use of knowledge. There are four ordained orders of magic, and a wizard must master five spells in one before moving on to the next.

Tiberius felt his heart pounding in his chest. He simply couldn’t believe he was actually reading a book about magic. He wondered briefly what it meant by
a mastery of the will, combined with a judicious use of knowledge.
He had always imagined wizards chanting spells, but he’d never thought of having to will the magic to work. It made sense to think of bending the power to your will, but it also made him nervous. The wizards had lost control of their magic, that much was known to everyone. They had delved into powers too great and destroyed so much that was good. Tiberius wondered briefly if he should just throw the book into the fire. Perhaps even reading it would unlock some ancient evil that he wouldn’t be able to control. But he had no fire, and the truth was that he wanted to know more. He wanted to know about the four orders of magic and the spells one had to master to work through those levels. He decided to keep reading.

The first level of magic is the healing arts. It is the most useful of all magic and grounds a wizard in the first and most important principle of wizardry: Magic exists to benefit all mankind. Healing magic, or Sana Magus, is a complicated art combining a knowledge of the human body with a strong grasp of magic fundamentals. It is important to remember that magic power is first and foremost a creative act, in the sense that magic is meant to build up, not tear down.

Tiberius closed his eyes and said the name of the First Order over and over again in his mind. Sana Magus, Sana Magus, Sana Magus. Healing magic—the thought made him giddy. He imagined himself hovering over a sickbed, whispering powerful incantations and restoring health. He couldn’t imagine how that would ever be a bad thing. If he could just learn enough magic to heal people, he could be the greatest physician in the entire realm.

His first impulse was to take notes, but then he realized that writing notes would only make getting caught more likely. He would have to memorize as much of the book as he could. There were Priests who had memorized huge sections of the ancient scriptures; surely he could memorize the precious information in this book. He looked back over what he had read, searching for the most important things to remember. The first principle of wizardry seemed obvious:
Magic exists to benefit all mankind.
He quoted the short axiom to himself over and over again.

It didn’t seem to make any sense that magic, which was intended to benefit mankind, had ended up destroying most of the world. No one really knew what the blighted lands were like. A thick layer of fog and mist covered it so that even in the floating airships, there was little to be learned. When the catastrophe had occurred, only a few of the luckiest people made it to the highlands; the others were lost, that was common knowledge. What wasn’t so common was a reasonable explanation for the huge, monstrous creatures like the Forkus that sometimes lumbered up the mountain out of the mist. What had created those beasts? What did such huge creatures live on if the land below the mist was ruined and uninhabitable?